


Midnight Refection

by airotsa



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Smut, his finest bride, it was love at first sight i don't make the rules, old man goes mad with lust, that still insults and taunts him, when he finds the one woman in the world, when she knows he can rip her apart, with bare hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airotsa/pseuds/airotsa
Summary: That night in the convent, Sister Agatha Van Helsing awakes in him a different kind of hunger. A more potent one than what Count Dracula remembers.
Relationships: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing
Comments: 38
Kudos: 152





	Midnight Refection

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I regret NOTHING.

_MIDNIGHT REFECTION._

He felt it before he saw it, how for the first time in three centuries he was hard once again, at the sight of the bold nun's neck, her long, beautiful neck and her refusal to not save the girl. His breathing was laboured and his chest rose and fell abruptly, even when he didn't have any need for air, his pupils dilated at the mere sight of something he didn't know he could want so badly.  
  
Dracula would not find a finer bride than her it was obvious to him and if he had learned something in all his years, it was that pleasure must never be ignored, so he wouldn’t shy from it now, "Agatha Van Helsing, I'm going to make you last."  
  
"Come, boy. Suckle."  
  
Never in his life had a woman made him feel this aroused.

Her muscles tensing, giving him the display of a lifetime, he lowered his mouth to her neck and with his fangs he ripped the skin just a tiny bit, enough for her to have a taste of the drug and not the full experience, for it to enhance their imminent coupling. He never liked them unwilling and he most certainly knew himself capable of bending even her to his will.  
  
The sister felt his fangs ripping the skin open, a sharp pain that was quieted by the one in her wounded hand, one that hadn't ceased to throb and hurt. It was only when his mouth latched to her like a man possessed, his tongue sucking and caressing the skin did she dare think things might not go the way she thought they would.

"You are a messy eater, a man that with the finest education money could provide couldn't even get that right." Agatha chided.  
  
"You don't deny a starved man ambrosia." He growled.  
  
His body came closer and against her stomach, she felt it, a hardness she didn’t think him capable of and had forgotten, for however much she stuck to the rules of the Church, she had once been young and dreadfully bored, stuck in a place that hadn’t changed in decades.

She bit down on her lip, self-conscious of the strength of which she wanted to mewl at the way his nails had torn the fabric of her garment like cutting through butter, his callused fingers giving special attention to her nipples, cold against the thin material of her shift.  
  
The Count was handsome she had to admit, walking between the fine line of madness and reason, half manic, half-feral, balancing himself a little too far on each side depending on what the situation demanded from him.

Powerful, aware of it in a cocky way that made her want to roll her eyes at how besotted he was with the person born of his corrupted nature and its perks.

Seductive and dangerous, too, in the way he wielded his words as he would a sword.  
  
She wanted to hate him for what he had done, but the problem resided in making her treacherous body understand that, a dark whisper filled her mind then, that it was his brain as much as his looks that drew her to him like a moth to a flame.

A game of power she will realistically, lose, but sweetness was the promise of corruption and she had denied herself far too many things in her counted years.  
  
When he looked at her with half-lidded eyes, unbelievably dark with lust, her legs rubbed together without her consent and his head tilted to one side as he smirked, pleased with the reaction she couldn’t control and at this point didn’t want to.

Unbelievably dark orbs that promised her, all her desires, the whole world beneath her feet, should she shy away from the God she had spent her whole life looking for, only finding him earlier that day.  
  
He stepped back to look at the mess he had made of the hot-headed sister and with supernatural speed was upon her again, he could smell how much she was liking this, proud that he had been able to show her the extent of his power. 

His hands moved her legs, wrapping them around his waist and his fingers fisted the cotton that kept her concealed from him, it was stupidly thin, of the lowest quality.

It didn’t matter, soon he’d dress her in silks, gold and jewels.

She would not give him the satisfaction, not even when she had to bite down in her lower lip again to stop herself from making a single noise, his focus on her making her insides a twitching and twisting thing.

He took that as a personal offence and brought his mouth to suck on her breast; his tongue lapped and turned and pressed against her sensitive organ and finally, finally, she moaned, high pitched, coming all the way from her stomach.

Her knees wobbled and Dracula pressed his newest bride against the wall, his hands hovering over her thigh and she squeaked when her back hit the cold stone. He bit down with just enough force and she gasped, inadvertently opening her legs in the process and he seized that glorious moment to insert one of his thick and long fingers inside her. Agatha screamed, her nails digging into her self-inflicted wound, lest without the pain she lost herself to madness before being properly bitten.

Her hips rocked against him to his surprise, he curved his digit then, pressing on her nub with his thumb and rubbing mercilessly until she was half-mad with her need for release, moaning and grunting and whimpering, a finer music that what Mozart had offered him in exchange for mercy.

Thank God he towered over her, so he could enjoy looking at her face while she was on her way to rapture, one hand around his neck like she might die if her grip wasn’t the tightest possible.

Just when she was about to come, he pulled out and her immediate reaction was to whine, but instead, he got on his knees, his face underneath her skirts and her legs on his shoulders. He was meet with brown curls but he didn’t mind, having as a human and a noble appreciated that sign that meant he wouldn’t be getting an infection.

Hot breath against her slit and she looked at the ceiling, anticipation consuming her almost as badly as when the bats had attacked them. He parted her folds and drank, her limbs tightening against him in a manner that would have suffocated him had he been alive; Agatha was drenched, dripping and he was consuming it all, _“Finally some good fucking food.”_ He thought.

The Count twirled his tongue against her pearl, up and down her slit and inside, working her like a maestro reaching the pinnacle of his career, achieving his masterpiece, adding his fingers here and there when the sounds she made were not loud enough for his liking. Curses coming from her lips was the sign he needed and then she was screaming herself hoarse, his name falling from her lips with a devotion he was sure she never had when praying.

Before she could finish with the aftershocks he had her on the couch at the far end of the room, her long hair spread like a halo around her, face flushed and eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. He couldn’t contain himself further and deposed of the… thing that Johnathan had been wearing, afterwards tearing her shift apart with bare hands, his fangs descending on instinct at seeing her fully naked under him.

She could feel him positioning himself at her entrance and for once they didn’t talk, instead she spread her legs wide to receive him, he finally entered her, his member thick, hard and throbbing against her. Her muscles stretched, for he filled her to the brim and she almost wept at how great it felt when he started moving her legs moved to rest around his waist, his head on the crook of her neck, panting with the effort of restraining himself, like she might break.

That wouldn’t do, so she pressed on his buttocks, but as thick as he was he only understood when she bit his shoulder and her nails clawed at his neck, then… It was bliss, the most perfect harmony she would ever feel in her life. He withdrew completely before plummeting in again beautifully, at which the Vampire said her name in a whisper, with reverence.

Her mind didn’t last long though, as he found a rhythm that left her breathless and the furniture under them in danger of breaking. Agatha Van Helsing was reduced to base instincts and raw nerves, “Ah… More, more, _more._ ”

He had the nerve to chuckle, “Agatha… _Beg me_.”

“You bloody… arse… Oh, God… I- I, please, please, _please_.”

In the next seconds what she saw was nothing but white behind her eyelids, stars exploded, the universe was reborn, she couldn’t breathe no matter how she screamed at her lungs to and if he had killed her with the most intense orgasm that was known to humankind, then, she might not resent him for it.

Her walls tightened around him like a vice and for all that he had once prided himself in his stamina, this woman had him undone, spending himself inside her whilst moaning and groaning with the same gusto as a bratty adolescent.

His face against the skin of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent as they descended from heaven.

He rolled them when he was functional enough then, her sweaty, flushed body on top of him, both in a mess of limbs but too content to resume the killing each other part right then.

“I’m still going to kill you.” She muttered.

He laughed and her drifting conscious registered it as a beautiful sound, but she was exhausted emotionally and physically beyond human comprehension so she fell asleep then and he embraced her with long arms, keeping her close.

From where he was he had a magnificent view of her inviting neck, still hungry from the long voyage and his party with the sisters his teeth enlarged. He bit down.

Perhaps in a dream, she might be up for round two.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note 2: Please read and review because that's the highlight of my week.


End file.
